


Cooper's Monsters

by PopsAfterDark (knittersrevolt)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actually a Small Town, Alternate Universe - Horror, And children, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Brain in the Wrong Body Trans, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Frankenstein AU, Hal Cooper Is The Worst, Hal Cooper's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Knitting, Violence against women, Without All The Stockholm Syndrome, enslavement, horror movie violence, undead characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittersrevolt/pseuds/PopsAfterDark
Summary: In the darkened halls of an abandoned mental hospital Dr. Hal Cooper has been making monsters.Betty, oblivious to her father’s machinations, comes across a horrifying creature. Together can they stop the doctor and free the others?





	1. Knit

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time @shrugheadjonesthethird @forasecondtherewedwon @i-know-you-can @abbadonthesouthsideserpent and I had a discussion about Frankenstein Jughead and crocheting. That lead us to this.
> 
> Beta'd by the absurdly amazing Bugggghead
> 
> It's a lot like a horror movie. People are going to be miserable and terrible things are going to happen. Hal is a misogynistic serial killer. A character will be in a shock collar for the majority of the story. If you don't want these things in your life, turn back now!

**Knit:** To join closely, unite securely

_He feels stretched taut and thin in places he didn’t know could even feel like that. Sharp pain crackles through his nerve endings as tiny shocks of awareness cascade up to his pounding brain._

_Unbidden, a low groan forces its way up his throat and out his mouth. When he tries to move, the commands seem switched. He tries to move his pinky finger and a toe twitches. He tries to kick a foot and winds up holding his breath. His pained wailing only increases in fervor._

_“Sir? Sir? Can you calm down for me?” a soft female voice floats to him._

_“Don’t tell it to calm down!” a harsher voice barks at her. “It can barely move. I’m telling you I’m not building them to think. If you treat it like a person, you’re going to start thinking of it as a person. This is just a corpse that moves.”_

_After more unwanted twitching, he finally wills his eyes to open and they obey. Two figures covered in white doctor’s scrubs and face masks are near his table. One, a small girl who is shackled by her leg to thick metal piping and the other a taller man who isn’t pinned to anything._

_They are so covered that he can only make out her silvery blond hair and his brown. Around the girl’s neck, a heavy shock collar clings tight to her throat. Painful bruising extends out from either side of it. The man has no collar, nothing but cold green eyes that pour over him._

_“Now shut the fuck up! I won’t have my recordings ruined with your shrill voice. **This is test 431, human subject 27. Subject reanimated within 45 seconds of electroconvulsive input. This is the fastest uptick to date. Subject is making loud vocalizations and has moved all four major limbs. I will now test for stimuli response.** ”_

_A sharp object jams against one of his fingers. He howls on the table. All ten of his fingers and toes are subjected to the same harsh treatment and left wet with blood._

_“ **Subject shows excellent sensitivity. With some training, he may even be able to grasp objects. Subject will be transported to a recovery cell and monitored for the ability to digest and defecate. All relevant tissue samples will be examined for further decay.** ” _

_The man in white snaps off his gloves and peers down for a while. “Pet, take him down with the others then re-shackle yourself on that level. And don’t try anything stupid again. We both know I’ll always catch you.”_

_As the man moves away, the creature tries to grab at him, to demand answers for what was going on. The pain at his fingertips at least helps guide him to moving the body parts he wants to, but every movement is sluggish. He hardly lifts a finger before the man is long gone. By the time the creature can reach out his whole hand, he’s just weakly swatting at the empty air where the man had been._

_“Hi there!” The girl takes his hand in hers and shakes it firmly. “I’m… well, who I used to be isn’t important. The Doctor calls me Pet, and I want to say that I’m very, very sorry for what I’ve done to you,” she says with the sound of tears thick in her voice. “Do you know who you are?”_

_She patiently waits for him to figure out how to shake his head ‘no’._

_“That’s okay. So far nobody does. Do you mind if I give you a name? Let’s see. The top of your jaw and the bottom were sown from two different people. The bottom is much darker than the top, and he put in bolts to hinge the two jaws together. Makes it kind of look like you have a bucket on your head. I think I’ll call you Jughead. If you don’t mind that is.”_

_He doesn’t. He couldn’t. Not when every moment is filled with anguish and uncertainty. The tiny girl folds him over her shoulder with a hefty groan. As each muscle curls around her, it sears with fresh agony._

_“Shhh, I know it hurts, I know, but if you keep making this much noise he’ll come back and make it worse, so we’re going to try and be very quiet.”_

_She tries to place him gently in the wheelchair, but she can’t keep from thumping him the last few inches. He roars at the impact even as she shushes him and runs a hand through his hair. She quickly crosses to a wall where a metal key is suspended over a set of surgical tools on a stainless steel cart. She swiftly uncuffs her ankle before speeding him away to a threadbare elevator that’s really just a metal cage with pulleys._

_“Come on, come on,” she mutters to herself as it slowly rises up the levels to meet them. Jughead notes that they start on the third floor. The impatient tapping of her foot draws his attention away from his own frayed senses._

_When they reach the ground floor, she takes off with him at a dead run to the far end of the hall. The door to the room on the end is flung open. It reveals what used to be a receptionist’s area complete with a worn down desk. Mold creeps from the ceiling down across the faded floral wallpaper._

_She barely even slows the chair down before she races off to the edge of the room. A few feet away from a metal chain, her back bows in pain. She falls to her knees and crawls those last few feet as spasms rock her. Once the chain is clasped on, the convulsions stop. She takes a few moments to breathe before calmly picking herself back up and wheeling Jughead farther down the hall._

_They enter a large room with only flickering fluorescent lights and a few frayed couches surrounded by end tables and white plastic chairs. A handful of the most hideous creatures Jughead can imagine are inside._

_A girl slumped in a chair like a limp doll wearing a pink wig with her neck at an absurdly unnatural angle smiles. “Welcome to the island of misfit toys.”_

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Well, look at Mr. Fancy Pants over here starting to walk.” He raised his hand to flip her off, but only managed to raise it to the height of his elbow before it fell again, slapping back down on his thigh.

It had taken him weeks to build up his legs enough to stand. Another month to gain the balance to stay that way. Was it too much to ask that she be proud of him for moving a full yard across the room on his own two feet? Sure, it was a shuffling, awkward gait, but it was better than anyone else could manage. 

“Ffffffuuuuu Oooooo. Tuh tuh tuh.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too, Jugs.” 

God, how he envied the way words just rolled off her tongue. He had no memory of life before this place but he was certain he used to be able to talk, to simply open his mouth and have his thoughts pour out in perfect sensible waves. Once upon a time he could stand and move gracefully across a room with no consideration to balance or muscles, he was sure of it.

He was also sure that she was envious of him, too. Toni couldn’t move a single muscle beyond her throat and lips. Toni could talk, but that was all. The Doctor hated the way she ran her mouth, so he forbade Pet from ever moving her. All she could do was stare off into the middle of the room without anyone or anything in front of her. Maybe he shouldn’t taunt her by walking in the small window of her vision, but he figured she might like the reprieve. At the very least, she certainly wouldn’t hesitate to tell him if she minded.

They heard Pet slam into the front room and dart for her chain. Despite her ability to both move and talk, Jughead did not envy her one bit. Being at The Doctor’s constant beck and call was a fate worse than death.

She stopped to catch her breath before turning a big smile to Jughead. “Look at you! Oh, you’re really doing so well. Much better than predicted. At this rate you could see seventy, maybe even eighty percent mobility recovery. Or, at least you could with time, if… just keep at it, okay?”

“How can he recover seventy percent? That means he started at one hundred and went down. Jughead isn’t one hundred percent anything. Or anyone.”

Pet sighed. “Thank you, Toni, for being so kind as to correct me on my word choices. Again. Such a fun daily activity.”

“Let me have my little joys.”

Pet readied a large tray of I.V. bags. “Breakfast!” she said sarcastically.

Jughead shuffled back to his usual spot, a space between Sweet Pea and Fangs. Sweet Pea was large and gentle. Fangs was chained by both hands to the wall. Most of Fangs was made up of small, delicate features. Tiny, feminine hands, a petite body, and bust topped with a delicate girl’s face. Then those teeth appeared. Fangs gnashed those teeth angrily at Pet as she drew close.

“Yes, I know, you hate me and this and everything else.” She offered up an armor coated arm for the teeth to sink into. She deftly managed to hook up the bag one handed then went about the rest of her rounds. 

Jughead was fortunate enough to have little decay on his arms so there was a permanent port taped to the back of his left wrist.

“ _Pet, hurry up!_ ” the Doctor called over the intercom. Everyone flinched, none more than the subject in question.

“Coming!” she shouted at the ceiling. She looked at her little band of half-human fiends. “I’ll be back for the empties soon. Be safe. Be kind.”

As always, once the chain was unlocked, she sprinted for the door. 

Jughead used the wall as support to push slowly to his feet. With his weight planted on his good right foot, he leaned forward. He slid his left foot to meet his right and began his slow, plodding steps across Toni’s field of vision. The wheels from the I.V.’s metal stand squealed as it dragged behind him.

“Awesome. I get to spend eternity watching you pace. Instead of working on your walking skills, how about you work on your conversational ones? I feel like I’m talking to myself. He keeps me because I can speak, but doesn’t actually want me to have anyone to talk to. Ironic, dontcha think?”

“Nuh.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s exactly what I should expect. I wish I could remember what there was before this. What outside was like.”

Right step, left slide.

“It’s there, the outside. I know it is. But we won’t be okay there either. Not like this. Mismatched parts. My voice is perfect, but the rest of me is limp. Fangs moves perfectly, but she’s an incompetent ball of rage-” Fangs threw her body hard against her chains, gnashing her teeth and howling in rage “- and Sweet Pea’s in a muzzle, so he can probably speak but his circulation is shit so he loses body parts in chunks.”

In response, Sweet Pea tossed a blackened, rotted middle finger at her.

Right step, left slide.

“Cute, Sweet Pea. Real nice. And then there’s you, Jughead. Can’t speak well, can’t move well, don’t look well, but you have enough of each to warrant your place on the pedestal of successes. I’ve got to tell you, you don’t look like much of a success from here.”

“Oooo maaah?”

“Yes, I am mad, thanks for asking.”

Right step, left slide.

“What do you think he’ll do once he gets one that’s just right? What will he do with this pile of reject parts? Actually, I’ve seen what he does, and you’re not making very good progress. Say your goodbyes now. He won’t keep you much longer.” 

Right step, left slide.

Jughead had no intention of finding out what The Doctor did with failures. He kept his steps wide and even. His joints, stitched together as they were, barely hurt anymore. Blessed numbness set in days ago. Despite the limp, Jughead was feeling strong. One day maybe he’d even run, but soon, very soon he’d be able to get out the wide doors he’d seen the first time Pet wheeled him down.

The girl talked about it sometimes: where she used to live, where she used to go. A place where everyone looked like her. One smooth piece of person. It was his favorite fairytale. All he needed now was the time and patience to get his body up to speed with his mind. 

Right step, left slide.

When The Doctor appeared in the doorway, the entire room went still. He looked right at Jughead. “Guess what? It’s trash day.”

Or maybe there wasn’t any time left at all.


	2. Purl

**Purl:** Denoting or relating to a knitting stitch made by putting the needle through the front of the stitch from right to left.

“-and here we are in the middle of nowhere with you working a hundred hours a week for a pittance compared to what you were making in New York! Didn’t you want the girls to grow up with culture and art and music?” Alice’s wine sloshed out of her goblet as she gestured towards Hal, the current object of her ire.

Betty sighed and continued using her fork to doodle in her mashed potatoes. Polly deliberately bumped her foot into Betty’s. When they met eyes, Polly rolled hers and offered a small smile. Betty tried to smile back but it fell flat. This argument was as common as dinner these days. 

Alice hated the move back to her long-forgotten childhood home of Riverdale. Hal was the one who initiated it. All of his reasons, more family time, a higher salary, all of it evaporated when they entered the city limits. He was never home, they had almost no money. At least they had the estate: a sprawling three acres. It was beautiful there, but a creepy abandoned mental hospital dominated the horizon to the East. 

“Just look at them!” Alice cried. “They couldn’t be more miserable. Isn’t that right, girls?”

Betty coughed. “May I please be excused?” She swiftly stood and carried her plate the sink before Alice could protest. Polly followed after. Unfortunately, the bickering didn’t subside with their retreat.

Betty couldn’t stand another minute inside the house. “Going for a walk!” she called back even though no one was going to notice her absence. She shrugged on a heather gray cardigan she’d hand knitted the fall before. It was a crisp night, not yet cold. Their house faced the South. To the right of her stretched the road into town. She could go to the local gas station that doubled as the movie rental place and nearest restaurant.

If she was in the mood for a drive, she could go to Pop’s and spend another night with Ronnie and Archie eating fries.

To the left loomed the mental hospital. It was a place of legend in Riverdale. The local spot kids dared each other to go into on Halloween nights. A ridge that loomed large in the distance cast an almost permanent shadow over the structure that killed all of the grass surrounding it.

Despite what Alice was constantly saying, it didn’t look like they’d be leaving Riverdale any time soon. Looking back and forth she realized she’d rather deal with ghosts than more people and bickering.

Betty secured her ponytail. She was not the type to shy away from something just because it looked scary. She’d been living next to the ugly blight for six months, it was time to conquer some fears.

_It’s just a building. What you’re going to find is a mess. Possibly some squirrels._

The half-mile trip only took her a few minutes; she was walking fast to stave off the cold. She took in the whole image, the tall imposing building and its attached parking ramp only serving to keep reinforcing it as a shadow of dread. As she approached in the waning light, she took the time to notice the details. There were vines winding their way up the sides of the building, barely budding with small, white flowers. The white paint on the building was peeling off, but the brick underneath was still in good shape. The foundation appeared strong.

The lock on the door was new, it gleamed silver. That meant whoever owned the property cared enough to keep out vagrants. But it was no match for Betty’s patented hairpins. Whatever she expected to see inside, it wasn’t clean, bare, beige walls. There wasn’t so much as a leaf on the floor. She expected it smell of damp mold, not the slight orange scent of some citrus cleaner.

Even the power was still on. When she found the switch at the end of the hall and switched it, most of the bulbs popped on right away. The flickering of the others hurt her eyes though, so she quickly shut them off and took out her flashlight. It was said that exposure therapy was the best way to dissipate fears, and Betty was finding it to be true. The longer she stayed in the building, the more it just seemed like four sturdy walls; walls that someone might occupy again someday.

Outside of the window, Betty saw a figure moving on the ramps. What she was sure had been a shadow morphed into the figure of a man moving slowly across the second floor of the parking structure. If she could put a human face to the landlord, it would make the place seem even less like a haunted house. It took her only seconds to lock the door behind her and sprint to the stairs.

“Hello?” she cried out across the empty concrete of the second floor. A breeze picked up, scattering debris in its wake. An abandoned car’s broken windows whistled. All the fear she’d been trying to get rid of welled up suddenly in her chest. With a few deep breaths, she pressed it back down.

It was working until she heard the noise: a thump followed by scraping. Then another. Betty gasped as it happened a third time and shut off her light. The dark blue of the nearly night sky backlit the person who stumbled into view. The man shuffled forward one more step before turning to face her. There wasn’t enough light to make out his features in the shadows, but something about him was off.

Betty forced herself to pull back and look at the details. The man was limping slowly. His right hand was curled in on itself, a sign of muscle control issues. As tall and imposing as he seemed, there was no way he could be a threat to her. But she readied her phone to call 911 anyway - just in case.

“He-Hello? My, uh, my name is Betty. Are you hurt? Do you, do you need help?”

“Hu… hup.”

“You need help?” Betty repeated as she flipped her flashlight back on. The man moved to try and cover his eyes, but neither hand made it all the way to his face.

Betty swallowed back a rude gasp. He was monstrous to behold. From the corners of his mouth up to his ears, it appeared half his face was stitched on. His lower jaw moved out of sync with the rest of his face. It yawed side to side even though he wasn’t speaking. His two-tone skin was tinged the sickly yellow-green of a healing bruise. The tattered white t-shirt he was wearing exposed arms that had thick, wide scar tissue in an angry shade of red that extended down to his elbows on his left arm and clear to his wrists on the right. A fresh bandage on his arm kept a needle port secured.

He was still shuffling toward her, but not very quickly. It was almost curious, hesitant. She shoved down her jitters and started moving toward him. As she grew closer, it got worse. He looked like a pile of porcelain dolls that had been shattered on the floor and then placed back together without care for making sure everything got back to its owner. The scar tissue at the skin breaks had occasional gaps of weeping, still healing flesh.

“Are you a veteran?” she asked as she wracked her brain, looking for what could have caused such extensive damage.

He slowly shook his head.

“Do you live here?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” His shirt was dirty, but since the gauze was relatively clean, he’d had medical attention recently. She deduced that he’d been to a hospital but... left… for some reason. “It’s okay, I won’t make you leave if you don’t want to.”

Without conscious thought, she moved to take his hand in a reassuring gesture. 

“Jesus! Your hand is freezing.” She snapped her fingers back and was immediately overcome with guilt when he flinched away from her.

“No, no, it’s okay. That was my fault. You just need something warm.”

She shrugged her cardigan off. “Here. This will be nice and cozy. I made it myself.”

She held it out for him to take, but all he did was look at it. So she slipped on the right sleeve for him and started tugging it up over the scars. She smoothed it over his back and then helped him maneuver his left arm in. 

“Does that feel better?”

He moved his head to snuggle his cheek into it with closed eyes, settling into its warmth like a hug. Tears stung at Betty’s eyes. It was like watching the best Christmas day ever. In her pocket, her phone buzzed with a message. Her mom was asking where Betty had wandered off to.

“I have to go.”

A high pained whine came out of him.

“Oh, don’t be sad. I’ll come back, okay? Do you have food? Are you hungry? What’s your name?”

“Juuuhh”

“Jake?”

“Uh - Uh. Juhhh.”

“Justin?”

He plodded over to a bucket. “Ju. Ju.” He rattled it with his foot.

“Jug?” He nodded. “They named you Jug? Alright. I need to leave... but I can take you with me if you want?”

He paused and seemed to really consider the offer, but shook his head.

“Well okay, Jug. Do you want me to come back?”

He nodded again.

“Then I will see you tomorrow. Bye”

On impulse, she wrapped him into a quick hug before she waved and bounded back toward the stairs.

Once she was back outside, she took in a deep, calming breath.

Betty had done a lot of stupid things in her life, but that was probably in the top five. Sure, he seemed slow, but he could have had a weapon. He could’ve overwhelmed her with force. She’d just gone right up to a strange man where no one would find her and willingly engaged with him.

Yet the strangest part of it all was that she’d never felt like she was in danger - not even for an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you knit? https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/no-frills-cardigan is the cardigan I'm picturing if you feel the need to go make it.


	3. Stockinette Stitch

**Stockinette Stitch** : A knitting stitch consisting of alternate rows of knit (plain) and purl stitch.

Jughead had thought he hated the tiny room where he’d been placed with the other rejects - the Serpents, as The Doctor called them - but it turned out there were much worse places. It was raining, which meant he had to find solace in the winding staircase that smelled like an unwashed bathroom. The concrete walls and floors leached what little heat he naturally had.

It didn’t just take his warmth, it also brought a new ache. His already stretched thin skin was pulling apart at the seams. Small drips of blood were forming in the breaches. 

It was selfish, damningly greedy of him to keep that beautiful cardigan on. It just felt so good, smelled so good. The word ‘home’ whispered through his brain as he clung to the cuffs. He imagined it felt the way normal skin was supposed to, secure enough to keep all of him confined inside of it with nothing leaking out. But things were leaking: his arms, his back. He took comfort in the idea that what he left behind in the fabric might wash away for her. At least the cardigan wasn’t around the very middle of him where the flesh under skin had torn, leaving his viscera in the cavern between the muscle and fat.

The cozy wool was the only solace he knew, and she’d given it to him willingly. It was his for as long as she would let it be. It was the middle of the night, and until the rain stopped dripping through the cracks in the ceiling he was going to be awake, so he was practicing.

“Mmmm”

“Ahmmmm”

“Ahmmm sah sah sah.”

He banged his head against the wall in frustration. If he could just get the words in his head out of his fucking mouth he wouldn’t even be stuck in the shitty parking garage in the first place. But he just couldn’t do what The Doctor expected him to. He couldn’t walk or move like Fangs. He was never going to have Toni’s words. He was useless. So he’d been tossed out. 

The Doctor had tried to incinerate him. Down in the basement there was a big blast furnace. Jughead had been able to put up enough of a fight to keep The Doctor from shoving him in whole. When it didn’t work, the man threw a sack over him, tied it shut, and drove him to the river. It didn’t take much to roll Jughead in. He’d spluttered and splashed until some instinct told him to float on his back. It didn’t take long for rocks to snag the bag open and provide enough jagged edges for him to get out of his ropes.

Then he’d stumbled upon a family. Two loving parents, two small children. So many screams. First the boy, no older than five began to wail. The pigtailed girl followed as soon as she saw the object of her brother’s fear. The mother’s face drained of blood as she shoved her children behind the wall of her body for protection. The father picked up the bottle of sparkling juice they had for their midnight picnic, brandishing it as a weapon at Jughead who could only tumble back towards the river.

He’d known that he looked like the rest of them. Atrocious. Hideous. Wrong. He just hadn’t really taken it into consideration until the fairy tale of life outside the institution walls dissolved like cotton candy at the reflection in their eyes. He did the only thing he thought he could. It didn’t take long to find the building he’d been born in. He had exactly what he wanted: freedom from The Doctor. No more tissue samples were taken. No more searing electrical shocks. But it was the only place he knew, so back into the garage he went. 

The self-loathing was what made him step out of the shadows when she called. Just one more confirmation that he was less than human and maybe it would be the push he needed to leave.

But she hadn’t screamed or recoiled. She’d just talked to him, asked him questions, gave him the gift of the most wonderful shelter he would ever know. He snuggled into it further. 

She said she’d be back, so he was going to be ready. Even if it took him all night, he was going to be able to say those two words. If he was going to get puss and gunk and blood all over her hard work, he was damn well going to apologize for it, too.

“Ahm suh suh eeeeee.” 

Two fucking words. That’s all he was asking his throat for and it couldn’t deliver. He pulled at his hair in frustration. To calm himself he replayed the conversation over in his head. She wanted to know if he was hurt, if he was hungry, if he needed help.

He’d been so busy trying to speak that he hadn’t stopped to think about his answers. Yes, he was clearly hurting, that much he knew was certain. The rest was so much trickier.

What did hungry feel like? His parts weren’t all in the right places, nerves attached in the wrong spots. The Doctor and Pet had never given him food. At least, not the way they tossed meat to Fangs or the way Pet delicately tore a sandwich into pieces before slowly eating each bit. There had only been the fluid bags. Did he need those?

Jughead might have been hungry, but there was no way to tell if he could even process food until he tried, and he didn’t want to do that in front of her. He’d take what she offered, but he wouldn’t ask for anything.

Did he need help? 

He sighed and practiced making his sounds. There were things he wanted to do. Go get the others. Take them somewhere they could all be safe and warm with no doctors anywhere near them. But that was a hell of a task. That required resources beyond his wildest dreams. 

The Doctor made sure they all knew exactly how people would react if they found out the truth. In the Bible, the Serpent was the devil’s first disguise, his first creation. These Serpents were no different. Sewn pieces of torn dead flesh stitched into something that could pass as people. If outsiders knew, they’d likely tear the Serpents apart, back into their old pieces and leave them to rot in graves. Jughead didn’t even know if they could die again. 

They might be conscious of each piece of themselves as they dissolved back into dirt.

If the woman, Betty, if she saw all of them together in one place, she’d know what they were. No, there was too much at stake to ask for her help.

“There you are!”

His whole body flinched. His feet pushed back, rocking his head hard into the wall behind him. His eyes instinctively closed against the pain.

“Ihhhhh nnnnn owmmmow.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

It wouldn’t do well to scare her off by being a baby. He opened his eyes and tried to smile. It was a very hard thing to accomplish when his upper and bottom lips come from different sources. 

She hovered near him in a blue plastic poncho. Her hands hovered just above his shoulders, poised to touch him but unsure if she should.

“Oh gosh, I just couldn’t sleep thinking about you being out here all by yourself in the cold and the rain so I wanted to bring you some things, but it’s like three in the morning so of course you weren’t expecting me. Shit, I’m doing this all wrong.”

Behind her was a big, black duffle bag she zipped open to pull out another blue poncho. “Would you be willing to follow me?”

She held out a hand for him to take. Ever so patiently she guided him step by painfully slow step until they reached the top. She took something out of her hair and used it to open a door that swung out to reveal the roof. Heavy rains still poured down onto the gravel surface. He couldn’t hear what she said over the sound of the winds and thunder, but she kept his cold hand in her warm one all the same, so he didn’t really care.

There was a single room surrounded almost completely on all sides by windows that she walked him toward. Once again she did something to the lock until that door opened, too.

“Here we are!” She beamed a smile at him. “Ta-da!”

It wasn’t much to look at. Empty except for dark control panels, the room didn’t have much to it.

“I looked up the schematics for this parking garage and found that it was built to be four stories tall while the hospital is only three. They made it taller to put this guard tower up here. I would move you over to the hospital, but it looks like someone goes in there relatively frequently. I’d bet money they forgot about this place though. Look!”

She went over to the one spot where the walls weren’t windows. “It even has this little bathroom for you!”

It was perfect. A place for him to hide but still see what was going on next door. While he looked out the windows and wondered about his quilt patch friends, Betty pulled tupperware and a sleeping bag out of the duffel. 

“There we go! Now you have something more than just my ratty cardigan to sleep in.”

He turned to face her. That was probably a clue. She brought him someplace secure so that she could have her sweater back. He gingerly tugged at the cuff on his right hand until he could slip his shoulder out. He let it fall down until it was just on his left arm then gathered it up as she unfurled the sleeping bag and a black pillow.

When she was done smoothing out the wrinkles and looked back to him, he offered it to her. She looked at him quizzically.

He deliberately showed her one of the bloodstained patches. “Ahm sow eeeeeee.”

“Oh Jug.” Her eyes went glossy with tears; the damage was so bad he’d made her cry. He couldn’t have felt worse.

“No, no, there’s no reason to be sorry.” She took the fabric out of his hands, but only to delicately put it back on him. She kept her hands on his shoulders and rested her forehead against his arm.

“This is yours now. You can do whatever you want with it. The only time you ever have to hand it to me is if you want me to wash it, okay?”

He nodded, but he could barely hear her. Taking it off felt like melting skin until it sloughed away. He’d felt raw and exposed. Having it back on, having her put it back on him, was nothing short of heaven.

She stepped back to wipe tears off her cheeks. “So no more of this ‘sorry’ business. Let’s see, what else did I bring? Oh, books!”

From out of her bag she pulled four books. Three of them were thin cardboard books with colorful pictures. Children’s books. From elation back to the depths of despair, Jughead realized she thought of him as a child. He was simply a six-foot youngster for her to babysit. The fourth was at least a chapter book, but it was a child’s tale nonetheless.

Right up until that moment he had no idea that he was letting himself think of her in a romantic way, as a future partner even. The awareness brought with it the clarity that she did not, and probably could not think of him the same way.

Irrationally hurt, he pushed the picture books away. “Fuh buh buh.” He picked up the chapter book and very pointedly sat to read it. It didn’t serve to make him look any less childish.

“For buh buh? Oh my gosh, for babies. I brought you toddler books.” She sat next to him on the plush blue sleeping bag. “I’m really fucking this up, aren’t I? Care to look through the food? I probably brought you a whole bunch of stuff you’re allergic to.”

It was never his intention to make her feel bad, so he bumped her shoulder lightly with his. She smiled and returned the gesture while reaching for the tupperware of food. There was bread, the quality crusty stuff, and some fruits.

He worked his bottom jaw until he could get it to take a bite of the bread and chew it up. It tasted so good he didn’t even care if he could digest it or not. While he chewed, she got out a pad of paper and pen. He looked over her shoulder as she furiously scribbled.

“I’m making a list of things I think you need. Since me making decisions for you isn’t a great idea we’re going to go over it together, okay? Uh, first, you can read. Would you like more books? Like actual grown-up novels?”

He nodded as fast as he could. Pet had novels that she occasionally let Jughead read when she was finished. He loved all of them.

“Check. Can you write?”

Instead of trying to use his limited dictionary of sounds to try and tell her, he smushed a raspberry and used the juices to make a ‘Y’ on the linoleum floor with his finger. 

“Got it. You can write, but it’s hard to do with your physical limitations. Next up, do you have any other clothes or access to more clothes?”

“Nuh.”

“Would you like some?”

“Uh huh.”

She took a deep breath. “Are you in pain and could you tell me where?”

He closed his eyes to better take stock of where his agony originated from. He held up his right hand to show her his fingers that were gnarled with cramps. He moved around his bottom disjointed jaw. Then he swept his hands up and down to indicate the general twinges from his skin.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought and finally… did you… can I... I’m not saying that you have to go or that I want you to go, but do you remember how you got here? Is there someone I should contact to take you home? Do you know where that is?”

Jughead just shrugged with sad eyes.

She scrubbed her hands over her eyes then pushed them back over her hair. “Thank you for being honest with me. I’m going to do my best to stay awake in class all day then do some research after school tonight. I probably won’t be back tonight, but I will be here tomorrow afternoon.”

She briefly placed a hand on his thigh before she stood up. He missed it the instant it was taken away.

“Goodnight, Juggie. Or morning. I don’t think anyone really counts it as a new day until the sun comes up anyway.” At the doorway she paused. “Do you still want me to come back? Because if you don’t, I don’t want to-”

He nodded vigorously and rolled his eyes at her,

“Hey, I have to check. Consent is the better part of valor. Sleep tight, Jug.” 

For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he did.


	4. Yarn Over

Yarn over: Makes an extra stitch on your needle and creates a deliberate little hole in your fabric.

“Sooooo...” Veronica raised an eyebrow expectantly at Betty. She was wearing a black Chanel suit that looked soft and glorious. Somehow she always seemed to make eating lunch in a cafeteria look like a photo shoot for Dior. Betty sometimes wondered if she wore things just to offset the fire of Archie’s hair. They made a striking couple. Betty still thought it a wonder how quickly they adopted her into their inner circle.

“Sooooo…? What?”

“Oh, come on.” 

Betty looked over to Archie who shrugged. A glance at Kevin showed him doing the same.

“I can not be the only person who sees what’s going on here,” Veronica said while looking around. “Seriously? Okay, end of last year Betty moved here yet still makes perfect straight A’s and finds the time to bake for us. This year she’s got a B in trig-”

“Actually, I retook a test. It’s an A- now.”

“-and she constantly looks like she’s about to fall asleep. There’s a guy in her life!”

Archie threw down a fry. “I thought you were about to say something important.”

Kevin scoffed “How is that not important? Betty, dish.”

“There is nothing to dish about. I’m tired because I’m keeping up straight A’s, dancing with the Vixens, and doing some community service in what little free time I have left.”

“Nope, I don’t buy it,” Kevin said after a beat. “You’re not community service tired, you’re a guy you like tired.”

“Exactly, Kev. Thank you.” Veronica wore a smug little smirk.

“I can promise you the only new guy in my life is the disabled veteran I’ve been rehabilitating through knitting.”

It was 100% the truth, and yet somehow not even the half of it. She thought back on the last few weeks. She’d spent only one day apart from him in the last month, that very first one. The guilt and humiliation of giving him those stupid books was a heavy burden to bear. Her trip to the library later that day had given her not only books he might like to read, but it also gave her a guide to understanding what else might be going on.

The muscle atrophy, the inability to walk or speak correctly, it all pointed to traumatic brain injury along with the more obvious physical injuries. Over the course of a week, she consulted with several local physical therapists under the guise of writing a story for the school newspaper and, with the help of articles, created a treatment plan.

Implementing it was proving to be hard work, but it was so worth it watching Jug grow and change. Knitting had actually been the easiest thing to convince him to do. They spent a week together just working on relaxing the tension in his hands with exercise and massage so they’d unfurl enough to grip the comically large needles she brought him.

His speech wasn’t great yet, but his laughter was magical. Instead of getting frustrated when he would drop yet another stitch, he’d just giggle with Betty as they tried to undo the mistake. It had been very slow going in the beginning, but he was catching on. Within the first five days he’d knit a long scarf that promptly disappeared.

That same week she gave him a laptop so that he could write her notes. He wasn’t very fast, he used the hunt and peck method since he couldn’t type properly, but when she returned from school the day after she’d left it with him, he’d typed her an entire note.

_Dear Betty,_

_I would like to tell you that my brain is the same as it ever was, despite how it may appear to you through my speech. The truth is I can’t tell you that for certain because I have no memory of who I was before this happened to me. I want to tell you to bring me movies, but I don’t know which ones I like. I’d like to give you a list of my favorite books to reread, but even I don’t know what would be on it. At least with the knitting, I know that I am creating something entirely new with you. I promise to do my best if you continue to do yours._

_Forever Yours,  
Jughead_

The hardest thing to get him to approve of was the singing.

“Please, Juggie? Humming is one of the easiest ways to warm up your vocal cords and start making noises. It takes the average human something like four years to learn to speak English and they all start with cooing and Mama and Dada. I know it’s frustrating, but you have to start with the basics. la la La LA La la la. Your turn.”

He glared, he pouted, he snarled and then he hummed, “hmm hmm Hmm HMMM Hmm hmm hmm.” He looked proud when she told him how well he was doing.

Whether she was helping guide his hands through the motions of making a simple scarf, or his throat through making complex sounds, she talked to him about everything. About how hard the move had been on her family. How she thought her parent’s marriage was due to implode at any second. The pressure to keep their outward image intact.

It wasn’t just that he was an empty sounding board either, bouncing her ideas back to her. As he gained sounds, he would make sure she knew if he thought she was in the wrong. He challenged her without words. 

She must have been silent for a while, lost in her own memories when Archie cleared his throat, bringing her back to the lunch table.

“Wait, so you’ve been meeting up with some random homeless guy alone and teaching him how to knit? Betty, that doesn’t sound safe.” Archie gave her a worried look.

She could not have rolled her eyes harder. “Yeah, for the past month. If he was a serial killer I’d already be dead.”

Archie shook his head. “Nah, I don’t like it. I’m going to come with you to meet him.”

“Seriously, Arch?”

Veronica smirked. “I, for one, think it’s a great idea. So yeah, Betts, he’s serious.”

“Veto. I’m sorry, Arch, but it’s a hard no. He… he’s disfigured and really sensitive about it right now. Wait, I have an idea! Why don’t you two become pen pals? He’s been working on his dexterity and trying to hold pencils and pens. Maybe he could hand write you some notes? You could answer?”

Archie shook his head skeptically. “I still don’t like it.”

“It’ll be so much fun!” Betty pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag. “I’ll bet you could even get extra credit in English for it.”

She plopped the items down on the table with a big smile and then waved goodbye as she headed off to class. Archie picked them up, looking confused. The determined look on Veronica’s face gave Betty a moment of pause. She’d seen that look before. It never ended well.

She tapped her toes and counted the minutes until school was out. Hal was taking Polly on a college visit and her mom was going out with some high school friends leaving Betty with the house all to herself.

It took her mere minutes to make it to the roof after the final bell rung. 

“Hello, Jug,” she said breathlessly as she stepped through the door. He was seated cross-legged on the floor, needles in hand. He held up his newest creation while quirking an eyebrow at her. She couldn’t help but giggle at the scarf with an image of two deer mounting each other on it.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “It is funny.”

He’d told her he wanted to knit something humorous. She’d challenged him to find a pattern that would make her laugh using her wifi hotspot. She’d underestimated his Google abilities.

She took a deep breath and winced. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but this room has a smell to it. The clothes, the sleeping bag… you. Everything needs to get washed. My house is empty for the night. I was wondering if you wanted to come over? You can take a long hot shower, I’ll bake, we can watch TV on an actual television instead of the laptop so it won’t lag. What do you say?”

He wound her cardigan into a ball and hugged it tight to his chest, a sign of anxiety.

“You’ll be safe with me. You can trust me.” He still hesitated. “If you really don’t want to go, I can just take some stuff with me to wash and I’ll bring you some soap and hair stuff. No big deal. I’ll have to make a few trips back and forth, but I can still spend most of the night with you.”

He stood up quicker than she thought he even could. “Nnno. I”llllll… I’llll-” He stomped a foot in frustration.

“I know,” she whispered and soothed a hand on his arm. “Come on, we can even spend some time looking for more inappropriate knitting patterns.”

He gave her a crooked smile for that and together they limped to her car. It was a good thing Betty’s house was the closest to the hospital because as the neighborhood drew closer, Jughead drew further into himself. When they pulled into the driveway, he was slouched so far down that his seatbelt barely contained him. His face was half hidden in the collar of the jacket Betty had brought for him.

He shifted anxiously from one foot to the other on her stoop until they were in the house.

“Sorry for all the boxes. We haven’t unpacked everything even though we’ve been living here for almost a year. My parents are in this standoff. Dad wants everything unpacked, but won’t do any of the work. Mom wants to move back, so she refuses to empty the boxes. Polly and I live in the stalemate afraid to upset either of them. It’s a mess. Literally and figuratively.”

She showed him to the bathroom. She ended up standing awkwardly in there with him for too long after showing him where everything was. After telling him to toss his clothes out the door so they could be put in the laundry, she escaped while he clutched onto a terry cloth towel.

She started the first load then went to begin baking. Baking was calming. If precisely measured, the end result was always the same, each product only slightly different from the other. She chose to make simple chocolate chip cookies, as they were also comforting.

She waited impatiently for his shower to finish as they baked. There were a million questions she wanted to ask him even though she’d seen him just the day before. Did he like the true crime book she’d gotten him from the library? Since he was knitting confidently with the size ten needles, was he ready for a smaller set? The chalk she’d given him was gone. Had he used it all or thrown it away?

The water shut off in almost perfect sync with the timer on the oven. She’d set fresh clothes outside the door of the bathroom so he could change into something clean. The door didn’t open.

Twenty minutes later, the door still hadn’t opened and Betty was starting to worry. The cookies were growing cold.

“Jug?” she asked cautiously ascending the stairs. She rapped lightly on the door to the restroom a few times before opening it very slowly.

He was standing in front of the mirror with the towel wrapped around his waist, staring. 

She was staring, too. The patch work of scars that covered his arms was everywhere. On his chest and stomach, large gaudy black stitches formed patterns across his skin. Betty didn’t even think they used wire like that for stitches anymore. His skin, while mostly pale, had sections of dark coloring swathed in. 

“Jug?” she said again while reaching a hand toward him. He flinched. His hands shot up to cover his face as he went into a crouch.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me. I was worried about you.”

He stood up, but still curved in on himself.

“I can leave. If you don’t want me to see. I can go.”

“UUUUgglllly,” he huffed harshly at himself.

“No, not ugly. Painful. It looks very very painful,” she admitted softly. 

He let her push his shoulders back, exposing his chest. She put a finger at each collarbone and traced the lines down until they met in the center of his chest then let one finger trail all the way down the tracks.

“This is called a ‘Y’ incision because that’s what it looks like. They usually only do these on corpses, for an autopsy. It should never have been done to you. This pocket right here? Your organs pushed through your muscle. It’s called a hernia, and I’m sure it hurts you very much. The person who stitched you up used thread that’s too big, they didn’t seem to care if it scarred, and left holes that kept the muscle from coming together the right way. Whoever did this to you is ugly, not you.”

Jughead put a trembling hand on her face. He traced across her cheekbone with his thumb to catch a tear. She pulled back sniffling, attempting to gather herself.

“You know what, I think it’s time those stitches came out anyway. Most places use those self-dissolving ones, but those will be permanent if we don’t take them out soon.”

Jughead grunted his dissent and linked his fingers together.

“No, I don’t think they’re still holding your skin together, look.” She ran her pinky under the lowest stitch placed just above the hair that lead below his towel. “Uh, yeah, see? Scar tissue underneath. All healed.”

“Healllll?” He whipped around her to see the mirror again. He leaned close to see the skin under the stitches.

“Yeah, silly. You’re actually healing a lot faster than I would have expected. Your walking and talking have improved lightyears past what they should have in just one month. You’re definitely getting better, Jug.”

Without warning, he whirled around and pulled her into a tight hug. “Thhhhhank-s.”

Huskily she said, “Of course. Let me get some scissors.”

Cutting open the strings one by one felt more intimate than Betty thought it would. She was glad he’d put on pants to act as a barrier. She wondered if he had felt as exposed by their conversation as she had. Each snip brought her farther down his body. It was deliberate and necessary but felt indulgent to run her fingers over each tiny patch of skin as it expanded.

“All done,” she said with far too much pep when the last one broke free. She took a moment to collect herself as Jughead observed himself in the mirror.

“Uh, your hair is growing, too. I’m no barber, but I could try and cut it for you?”

That offer turned out to be a mistake. She cut a little bit off one side, then realized it didn’t match the other. Before long his hair was too short in some places, too long in others, and mismatched everywhere.

“I am so, so sorry. Here.” She ran to her room to fetch him one of her creations, a knit crown that would hide the massacre of his hair. “What about this?”

He was chuckling at her misery. He gave her a full smile, or as best he could after he pulled it on. That’s when she could clearly see the entire outline of who he used to be.

“I llllllooove it.”

“Good. Because I suggest you not remove it for several months while your hair grows back. Now, how about we eat those cookies and watch an old movie?”

Her reward was another smile.

++++++++++++++

One short Hitchcock movie later, Jughead was back on the roof with clean bedding and Betty was leaning against her front door trying to catch her breath. What was she doing with her life? Fawning over some guy who was probably only into her because she was his sole point of contact with the world? If he did like her back, that was probably the reason why. Heck, she’d even denied him a potential new friend by not letting Archie meet him.

She was so busy being disappointed in her own behavior that she missed the noise of the garage door opening. But it was impossible to miss her mother dragging in a scruffy drunkard. His short, dark hair was plastered to his head with too much sweat, his worn leather coat and jeans were soaked in the smell of stale beer. 

“Betty, help,” Alice said with a grunt. Betty shrugged the man’s other arm over her shoulders. She had to pull back from the overwhelming fumes coming off of him.

Betty regrettably had to breathe to ask, “Who is this?”

 

“I’m F.P.,” the man answered with a cocky smirk. “Didn’t Alice ever tell you about how her ‘n me tore this town up back in the day?”

“Uh, nope. Can’t say she ever mentioned you.”

“Well, we did.” He shot a charming smirk at Alice, “You remember those days, baby?”

Bett shuddered. “Ew.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “That was a lifetime ago. I’ve forgotten all about it and so should you.”

With a suddenly sober voice, F.P. said, “Yeah. A lifetime.”

“Oh, Sweetie,” Alice whispered while blinking back tears, “If there’s anything I can do-”

“There’s nothing anybody can do.” F.P. shrugged both of them off to flop down on the couch.

Ever curious, Betty couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Can’t do anything about what?”

“Betty!” Alice admonished.

F.P. chuckled, “Had a boy. About your age. He would have asked, too. I bet you would have liked each other. He died, ‘bout a year back.”

With far too much effort, F.P. rolled to one side to fish his wallet out of his back pocket. He got out a picture and stared longingly at it. “Would have done great things.” He handed the picture over to Betty. 

Smiling broadly at the camera next to a small girl with the same eyes was Jughead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to knit two deer fucking?
> 
> www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/fornicating-deer-chart


	5. Stitch Manipulation

**Stitch Manipulation:** Any technique that reshapes the surface of the material.

Jughead was _Alive._

His hair was growing. His nails were growing. He was healing, getting better. His absolute favorite part of being really and truly alive? Eating.

The cookies Betty sent back with him had a caramelized sugar crisp edge with a center that was silken soft and oozing with melty chocolate. He shoved one into his mouth whole, then chewed slowly to let it all roll around and coat his mouth in the flavors tempered by just enough salt to give it an edge. 

He hummed his approval in his empty room. As he gathered supplies to take over to the hospital, he found excuses to stash some cookies away and tear into others. Most of the others couldn’t eat them anyway, he reasoned. No need to make them jealous.

The first few foods Betty brought had made him so sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t stop himself. Taste was an amazing sense. As far as he was concerned, he was deprived of it for months of his life. No way he would go without now.

Going to the hospital late on a Friday was a risk, but only a small one. The Doctor rarely left the lab when he was on the premises. If Pet was going to snitch on him, she would have done so already. She had to have known where all the gifts were coming from. The only danger was in the process of coming and going.

The biggest downside of being clean for the first time was that he could smell everyone else so much better. The stench of rot wafted off of Sweet Pea every time he so much as shifted. Fangs’ dress smelled of sweat and excrement. Only Toni, who never moved, was spared from pungent odor.

All of them had at least one knit item somewhere on them. What was left of Sweet Pea’s fingers were inside of mittens. He also had a bright orange scarf, Jughead’s first finished project, wrapped around his neck. Fangs’ shoulders were covered in a heavy shawl. Toni’s hair was kept out of her face with a headband Jughead made for her. On the ground were books and other knick-knacks Jughead had brought them over the weeks.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about us,” Toni snarked as he walked in.

“Youuuu? N-n-n-eeeever.”

He held up the scarf for her to inspect. He cautiously wrapped it around her neck, leaving part of it pillowed under her head to give her a better angle to see the room.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Fangs was furiously scribbling on the floor with the chalk Betty had left him the week before. It was blue chalk in a bright pink My Little Pony grip for easy writing.

Fangs started banging a hand hard against the floor trying to get attention. There were two big messy letters and an arrow pointing right to Fangs.

“What is that? Is it a tilty A? Maybe an H? He? Why would you write ‘He’ on the floor?” Toni asked.

Fangs’ hand banged on floor, then her chest. Floor, chest.

“You’re a ‘He’? Fangs, are you a man?”

Fangs jumped up and down, nodding and snarling. He ripped at his long blonde hair.

“That fucking son of a bitch Doctor took a dude’s brain and put it into a tiny little girl body. Jesus, what an asshole. No wonder you’re so angry all the time.”

Fangs sagged hard into the shackles keeping him up. He didn’t look tired though, just relieved. 

“You’ve been trying to tell us that for a long time, haven’t you? Though, to be fair, being trans doesn’t make people into tiny balls of rage. That’s all you, Fangs,” Sweet Pea said with a raspy voice from across the room.

In the last week Jughead had gained enough dexterity to undo the muzzle that kept Sweet Pea quiet. Fangs rattled his chains harder and stomped on the word ‘HE’ again. 

“Sorry, dude. It’s really hard to tell when you can’t talk. But speaking of being able to talk, hey Jug, I know why Fangs looks like a girl, why do you smell like one?”

Jughead smiled coyly and shook his head. He was still selfishly hoarding all of Betty’s attention. He justified it by telling himself she wasn’t ready; she’d turn them in to be experimented on, she’d be in danger if she knew. The others wouldn’t accept her. They’d tease her until she ran away and never came back. She’d be horrified by the walking corpses and never speak to him again. She’d burn the whole hospital down.

He knew he was lying to himself. He was the one who wasn’t ready. Not ready to confront his demons, not strong enough to get everyone away from The Doctor once and for all. But he would be, someday.

“He smells like a girl because he’s stealing all of this stuff from a little boutique somewhere. I, for one, am glad he finally re-discovered soap.”

Jughead made a big show of pulling a cookie out of the tin and slowly taking a bite.

“I can’t swallow that anyway, dumbass.” Toni stuck her tongue out.

Jughead was too busy gloating to see Fangs’ attack coming. The rest of his treat was snatched from his hand and in Fangs’ mouth in a blink. Fangs hummed approval then lunged again. This time he was prepared and managed to duck away from the attack. The effort sent him stumbling into the far wall with an oomph. Fangs continued to struggle against his confines in that direction.

“This is actually way more intimidating now that I know Fangs is a dude,” Sweet Pea said chuckling.

Fangs snarled at Sweet Pea despite his words. He crawled quickly back to the chalk to write KEY in bold scrawl.

“Nnooooo. T-t-t-t-” Jughead smacked a hand against his head, as if that would knock the correct words loose. It was too far. He wasn’t fast enough. Fangs was too much of a risk in his current state. The Doctor would find out they were missing and blame Pet. Maybe even kill her. He just couldn’t let Fangs out.

But he didn’t have the words to say any of that. All he could do was shake his head and say, “Nnno.”

“Why are you doing this to us?” Toni asked incredulously. “Why keep coming back and tormenting us with freedom you won’t bring? What the fuck is the point?”

“Soooooooonnnnn,” Jughead falsely promised.

“It’s because he can pass,” Sweet Pea spat venomously. “He’s not like us. We’re freaks, but give him a hood and he can walk wherever he wants. Isn’t that right? Don’t want us blowing your cover. So he’s got some bolts in his jaw, big deal. I’m falling apart.”

A patch of flesh hit the floor. Sweet Pea showed the exposed muscle in his arm moving in lines under where it used to be.

“Neeee-” He just couldn’t make his mouth move fast enough to get the sounds out. They were drawn from his throat in rivulets. He couldn’t stem the flow.

“Whatever you need, you better get it fast,” Toni warned. “I heard our good doctor the other day, he said he’s almost out of parts for his newest creation. I think he might go get more, and I’m not talking about from the local morgue either.”

What blood flowed in Jughead’s body went cold as he nodded. Ready or not, it was time to tell Betty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW mittens that Sweet Pea is wearing  
> https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/how-cold-is-it


	6. Ribbing

**Ribbing:** Alternating knit and purl stitches. This pattern creates a tighter fabric, often used on cuffs and hats. 

The sheer, stark white from Betty’s laptop was the only light in her bedroom. Shadows pressed in on her from all sides as she stared down at the obituary of Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, a carefree teenage who made decent grades. He was a young man who ran his school newspaper. He was also one of a half dozen teenagers who died on their motorcycles in the dead of winter when a semi driver hit a patch of ice and skidded into them. 

Only a few scarce miles and one year’s time separated Betty from the accident.

The pounding of her heart drowned out most of the tiny noises houses made as they settled at night. Every audible creak cracked through Betty’s calm to fray at her nerves. She should have known. The scars, the skin, they were all clues.

That first day at the library she’d tried to find out who he was. She’d scoured missing persons reports. None of the local hospitals were missing a patient. No local veterans groups knew of him. No one had even heard of or seen the man Betty found wandering the grounds.

A thought began creeping its way into the back of Betty’s mind. No one else had seen him, spoken to him. When people tried to come with her to meet him she rebuked them. Perhaps it was a self defense mechanism. 

Jughead was a ridiculous name for a man who couldn’t possibly exist.

Either she was falling in love with a ghost, or Betty’s grasp on reality wasn’t as strong as she’d imagined it to be. There would be no sleeping that night.

As the last vestiges of darkness were broken by the orange rays of dawn, Betty was still wide awake in her bed. She couldn’t stop shaking. Suddenly the monsters of childhood lurking under beds were terrifyingly real again. Even though Jughead had shown her nothing but kindness, he was moving his way into the realm of nightmares.

She needed confirmation. Either he was dead or a figment of her imagination. She couldn’t live without knowing which.

A sweater set and warm fleece lined leggings under a skirt were her pastel armor for the day. A light coat of makeup to disguise her fatigue was applied as a finishing touch. Alice was already up and bustling around the kitchen when Betty deemed it an acceptable time to go downstairs. 

“Betty! What are you doing dressed already? I was going to make a pancake breakfast. I think our guest could do with something to soak up the alcohol.”

F.P. snored from the couch. 

“I was planning on heading to the library this morning. I have a lot of research to do for a history paper. Plus I’m kind of weirded out that you brought a guy home last night.”

Alice managed to ooze disapproval with just a look. “It’s not like I brought a date home. Yes, he’s an ex-boyfriend, but he’s also a hot mess. Look at him! It’s not as if I’m about to cheat on your father; even if our marriage is on life support.”

“You know that’s a really messed up thing to say in front of your kid, right?” Betty sighed.

“Why? It’s not as if you two don’t know what’s going on.”

“We wouldn’t know what was going on if you didn’t fight in front of us constantly! You know what, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I’m leaving, I’ll be back later, I love you.”

“There’s no need to be so sensitive. I love you, too. If you aren’t going to be home by lunch, please call.”

As Alice continued her kitchen crusade, Betty passed F.P.’s prone form on her way to the door. Even asleep he looked exhausted. She picked up his phone from the floor where it had fallen from his pocket. The home screen was that same picture of Jughead and what must have been his sister. There was no password. On a whim, Betty dialed her own number then deleted the action from his history. She set the phone back on the table before darting outside with her coat in hand.

Betty gulped down frosty fresh air as she zipped her jacket. She quickly started her car to get it heating, then froze with indecision. Her heart urged her toward the garage; over there she could curl up with Jughead under blankets sharing warmth and knitting. 

But it would be a mirage. The silence would no longer be comfortable as she contemplated the truth.

She could also go to the cemetery. There she could face down the demons haunting her, she could see his grave. Between deep breaths in and out, she looked down at the mittens on her hands. He’d picked the pattern for them. They were a soft blue and cream that spelled out “Cold As Fuck.” They’d made him smile.

She put the vehicle in gear and pulled out. 

Warm air kissed her face as she swung open the door to the guard’s booth. She saw Jughead pacing long before she arrived. When he spotted her, his features became soft and it softened her as well. There were other possibilities. Maybe she was just so smitten with Jughead that she saw his face in Forsythe’s picture. Half of his face was clearly a skin graft, there could have been bone structure damage as well.

Carelessly she threw herself at him, wrapping him into a hug that nearly took him off his feet. Once his balance was regained, he hugged her back firmly. The cold metal of the bolt in his jaw pressed into her hair as he laid a cheek on her head. She didn’t care. He felt solid. How would something that was just in her head feel so real?

As she took in the smell of clean laundry from his shirt and wondered why she should even care.

He gave her a last firm squeeze then gently pushed her arms away. He sighed heavily before handing her the laptop. On it he’d typed a single line.

_I think I used to be dead._

The tears were pouring down her face before she could even think about stopping them. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

++++++++++++++

He didn’t want to go into the library. Sure, the black hoodie he had on under his leather jacket could be pulled up to hide the bolts, but it didn’t cover his lower jaw. The clear mismatch between the halves of his face would be visible to anyone who cared to look.

Betty felt terrible for making him come with her, but she couldn’t keep him hidden anymore. 

As far as she could see, there were two ways for them to confirm who he was: either go to the library and do some research or go to F.P. Jones and ask him directly if Jug was his long dead offspring. Betty decided she needed answers before she could handle F.P.’s questions.

“You’ll walk just in front of me and bump into someone on your way in. I’ll make apologies for you. I know they have all the local papers archived. We can go through them together.”

He shrugged his shoulders to ask her why.

“Please just trust me. This is something I need you to do.”

The library hadn’t been open long, it was still practically deserted. True to his word, Jughead headed for a shoulder collision with the only other person walking around. It was Reggie Mantle. Before Betty could warn him that it was a bad idea, they made contact.

“Excuse you!” Reggie snarled.

Jughead mumbled the best apology he could.

“Hey, freak! I’m talking to you.” Reggie grabbed Jughead’s arm and whipped him around. He had to grab onto Reggie’s jacket just to stay on his feet. “What the fuck is wrong with your face?”

“HEY!” Betty snapped. “Let go of him!” 

She shoved her way between the boys giving Jughead the opportunity to hide as much of himself behind her as he could.

“How dare you, Reggie Mantle! If you think for one minute that I won’t tell your mother how you’ve treated this war hero, you have another thing coming!”

Reggie rolled his eyes and sarcastically said, “Thank you for your service,” before he went to check out the magazine in his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” Betty whispered. “If I’d known it was going to be him, I never would have sent you in the first place. Sorry about the soldier lie, it’s just the easiest one. But at least now we know you aren’t an apparition.”

He raised his eyebrows high.

“Yes, I considered that as one possibility. Also, I thought you might be an early onset schizophrenic hallucination. The fact that you aren’t either actually makes this a much deeper mystery.”

Her phone pinged, instagram informed her she’d been tagged in a photo. It was a picture from behind with her arm slung around Jughead’s back. “And now I have social media proof.”

Jughead shied away as the librarian helpfully lead them into the stacks where back issues of the papers were stored. They waited until she left to begin rifling through obituaries. 

Betty knew the instant Jughead found the image. His whole body went rigor mortis stiff. It wasn’t the same photo F.P. had given her, this was a school photo of Jughead with a scowl permeating his features.

“Mmmme,” he mumbled.

“I think it might be,” she confirmed. “Or maybe it isn’t. It could just be a coincidence. There are stories all the time of people finding their ‘twins’ on flights or walking the streets. He probably just looked like you.” 

A look passed between them. Neither believed that theory.

With a heavy exhale, Jughead turned the page. A gasp tumbled out of him as he took in the pictures. He pointed at the faces gesturing wildly for Betty to see.

“What? What am I looking at?”

He thrust the paper at her still pointing.

The next page was filled with the other kids who had died that day. Two girls, three boys. All of them the same age as Jughead or close to it. A group photo of all six of them dominated the middle of the page.

“Do you remember these people?”

He shook his head and grunted at her. “Iiiiiiii seee.”

“You’ve seen them? Are you telling me you aren’t the only one?”

+++++++++

The flickering of the fluorescent hospital lights created an ominous tone that wasn’t there her first trip through the halls. Instead of entering through the main doors, Jughead helped her crawl through a broken window on the first floor after circling the building to look for movement. His step slide gait took them quickly past a heavy set of shackles on the floor that Betty couldn’t help but stare at as they passed. 

The stench of decay had Betty gagging before the faint sound of voices could be heard. Jughead anxiously waited for her to recover before urging her forward. She paused at the edge of the doorway to steel herself for what lay ahead. She was shaking at the idea she’d find a room of broken human pieces moving across the floor. 

Jughead entered first to a round of greetings. She rested her back against the door jam for a moment more before turning to face the room.

A moving cadaver licked what was left of its mouth and lasciviously said, “Damn. Where has Jughead been hiding you?”

Betty suppressed a scream as he shambled closer. Behind him, heavy chains dragged from a metal clamp around his neck, rotting flesh hung raggedly off craters in his face. While she stopped herself from stepping back, she couldn’t help but lean away. Jughead interceded before a hand missing several digits could reach her.

“Come on, man. I’m just having fun,” he said before dragging himself away. 

In relief she stepped to her side. Her mistake was being so consumed by her first encounter that she didn’t check the entire room.

A blitz attack came from the side. Sharp nails dug ravines into her arm as they dragged her down to the ground. A snarling creature was on top of her, gnashing its teeth in her ear.

“Keeeeyy!” it hissed into her hair as Betty covered her head from the assault.

“Fangs! Get the hell off of her!” A female voice demanded. “NOW!”

The claws relented. Betty scrambled on hands and knees across the floor then flipped to scoot on her back to the wall.

The figure in chains who’d grabbed her jeered at Betty from across the floor. Jughead was giving it a stern look.

Betty couldn’t help but gulp at the woman gazing at her from the chair. It was obvious her spine wasn’t attached inside her body. The smile she gave Betty couldn’t be anything but creepy no matter its intent.

“Forgive Fangs. We haven’t been able to teach him manners. We think some wires got crossed somewhere.”

“Wh-who are you?” Bett gasped.

“My name is Toni. With an I. So named for my ability to speak, like the Tony awards, I give a good performance. Fangs got his name for obvious reasons. Also, he’s a he. Trans zombies are a thing. That lumbering mass who hit on you is Sweet Pea, he’s not as docile as advertised. And I assume you and Jughead are already fast friends.”

Her voice had a harsh rasp as the air flowed from her lungs through the sharp crick in her trachea. Betty had to breathe out the horror of it all with her eyes closed. 

“It’s very nice to meet all of you. The shackles in the front room... who do they belong to?”

“To the Doctor’s Pet, of course. She’s alive, just so you know. I mean, she’s always been alive. Though I wouldn’t call being trapped in here with that asshole living exactly.”

“Someone did this to you?”

She smirked. “You didn’t think we all rose from the dead without any help, did ya?”

Betty’s mind reeled, “We have to get you out of here. All of you.”

She ran out the door to an adjoining room. A decrepit but functional wheelchair sat unused. She wheeled it quickly over to Toni. When she moved to pick the girl up and set her in the chair, Jughead wrapped his arms around her, restraining her from the back.

“What are you doing? Let me go! We have to move! He’ll come back! We have to save them!” She struggled against his grasp.

“Nooo lii-ke-”

“Yes like this! Why won’t you help me?!” she screamed at him.

“If we leave Pet behind, he’ll kill her,” Sweet Pea said from behind.

“Fuck her!” Toni argued. “She’s been his accomplice. I’m tired. I’m tired of seeing the same damn wall all day every day! I’m tired of sitting in a dead body! Please, please let’s just go.”

“No,” Jug said firmly with a shake of his head.

“Then when?” Betty demanded.

Jughead opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He skirted around the range of Fangs’ chains to grab some chalk and write, ‘PLAN’ across the floor.

Betty took in a deep breath, caught on the stench, and released it in a fit of coughing. They all stared as she caught her breath.

“Two days,” she choked out. “I’ll give you two days, then I’m getting them out. With or without you.”


	7. SSK

**Slip Slip Knit:** A double decrease that leaves a single center stitch.

Betty had the terrible habit of talking to herself and pacing as she thought. It started out endearing, but three hours later it was grating on Jughead’s nerves. As she walked he sat at his computer, fingers working desperately to type up replies before she would answer her own questions. 

There was so much she still didn’t know. She didn’t know about Pet’s tight collar that flooded with electricity when she didn’t move fast enough or didn’t comply. The layout of the third floor laboratory. The type of lock keeping everyone’s ankles tethered. The Doctor’s usual visitation schedule and lab hours.

He held volumes of information that he just couldn’t communicate quickly enough for Betty to hear him.

“I shouldn’t have promised two days. It was a rash move. I need at least a week to determine ownership, establish patterns, get blueprints, general electrical schematics. If I can figure out who the Doctor is and Pet’s identity, I could possibly get the police involved for kidnapping and have him arrested after we get everyone out. We can time the escape so that the police arrive just after we leave. Pet will get rescued before he even knows that you guys are gone. I wonder if there’s surveillance of that room-”

Having had quite enough of the rambling monologue, Jughead grabbed Betty by the shoulders. She was startled, having barely realized he was still there. He took an exaggerated breath in and out for her.

“Okay, you’re right. Breathe. I can do that.” She closed her eyes.

He kept his hands over her collarbones for a few deep breaths. He moved a thumb to her jaw when she seemed to even out. With his eyebrows he asked how she was.

“Thanks, Juggie. I needed that.”

She tilted her cheek into the palm of his hand. Another bad habit of hers. Heat traveled down his fingertips all the way down his arm to his chest as she smiled at him. When she was well and truly calm, he handed her the document he’d been working on.

“Oh my God, Jug! This is everything!” She sat down on one of the folding lawn chairs she’d brought up to his little room. It took her nearly a half hour to get through all the information he’d poured out.

One moment she was reading through everything again and the next she was batting back tears. When he placed a hand on her arm, she covered it with her own.

“I’m sorry. I keep doing this. I keep underestimating you. I’m so used to people talking over me and around me when making decisions that affect my life, and here I am doing the exact same thing to you. It’s no excuse, but I get interrupted with information so much that I forget I have to stop and really listen to hear you. I’ll do better.”

He leaned over her to type, **Thank you.**

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for realizing I’ve been a jerk. I should be thanking you for putting up with me.”

**Really all I care about is the knitting**

From out of a bag he produced a pair of socks he’d knit for her. They were red with a white lace trim.

“Oh these are adorable! Wait a minute… are those penises?”

She giggled uncontrollably as he waggled his eyebrows in confirmation. “Oh thank you! I love them!”

She pulled him into a hug that was too tight and lasted a beat too long. As she moved slowly out of his arms, her eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back again.

He had to kiss her. He simply couldn’t fathom any other option.

He purposely left his arms slack so she could escape at any moment. Anticipation of her revulsion sent nervous ripples through his brain nearly ruining the moment. Nearly. But the lushness of her lips, the soft sigh she breathed against him before fully pressing into the kiss, more than made up for his doubts.

“He’s a surgeon!” Betty exclaimed the instant she pulled back. “The incisions on you that are badly stitched are all autopsy scars. The newer grafts are much better sewn, clearly by someone who knows what they’re doing. I should look into surgeons.”

He was still reeling from the triumph of the kiss, his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Sorry, again. My mind just started going really fast and I was thinking about how I’d like to stay here forever but I have to leave for dinner soon and how long it will be before we see each other and then I thought about the doctor. So, yeah.”

He chuckled at her.

“Oh shut up, you like me,” she said with a smirk.

“I dd-oo.” 

She cuddled into another hug, resting her head against his chest. “Oh Jug, where are we going to put them? Where can we take Fangs? He’s out of his mind. Or Toni? It’s so obvious she’s dead, let alone Sweet Pea.”

He had to shift both of their weights to reach the laptop. **We need more time. 2 days isn’t enough.**

“I understand what you mean, I really do, but we have to make it work. They’re dying in there! Yes, I know they’re already literally dead, but it’s crushing their spirits. We don’t even know how they’re being kept like that. What if they only have so much time before it wears off? They shouldn’t have to spend the rest of their existence trapped in that horrid little room.” She moved fully out of his arms as she stood up. He followed after, holding the laptop in one hand as he kept typing with the other.

**I’m not asking for years. Just a few weeks.**

She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but I refuse. I can’t leave anyone like that. Two days is enough of a compromise.”

She shuffled her feet on the ground while looking down. “I’ll understand if you can’t do this with me. This has been hard on you, I get it, but I have to do what I know is right. I emailed myself the information you wrote down. Tomorrow night, nine o’clock, meet me in the woods just north of here. If you show up, we’ll go over the plan, if you don’t I’ll come find you when everything’s done.”

She pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “I hope you’ll be with me.”

She slipped out of the room without so much as a glance back. He briefly considered throwing a chair through the huge glass windows to vent his frustration. That absolute stubbornness was probably what brought her to him in the first place, but damn if it wasn’t irritating. There wasn’t enough information to move on; but her moral compass never wavered from due north. There would be no swaying her from what she thought was right.

So Jughead prepared. He gathered every supply he could think of. He stole rope from a dock in the dead of night. What little food he hadn’t eaten already he bundled up along with his clothes. He figured out how far he could get in an hour and then calculated how far he thought he could get while pushing Toni in a chair.

He thought of escape plans, but knew better than to think he’d come up with something better than her.

During the day as people walked freely through the town, he waited.

At a quarter to nine that night, he went into the woods just as a thunderstorm broke open. From across the field he watched as the lights in the lab flickered. The Doctor was in. The hand on his watch rolled past the nine. No sign of Betty. As it neared ten, Jughead’s heart started to sink.

With all of his hesitance was it any wonder she’d left him behind? She might have already gotten them out for all he knew. Just as he was about to start shuffling back to the guard tower, he heard a voice emerge from the trees.

“Boy? Oh my God.”

A man he’d never seen before stepped out of the foliage. His eyes were so wide they looked as if they might split. He sputtered out half words and phrases as he looked Jughead up and down.

“It’s you. It’s really you!” 

Jughead allowed himself to be wrapped in an embrace. The man smelled of booze and cigarettes in a way that penetrated his skin. Tears were slipping down his cheeks to melt into the rain.

“God, let me look at you.” He kept one hand on the back of Jughead’s neck and the other fisted in his shirt as he scanned over the visible scars. He patted Jughead down as if he was checking to make sure he was whole. His fingers lingered on the bolts as he murmured platitudes about how it was okay, it would all be okay, because Dad was here now.

Jughead held himself awkwardly as he endured the onslaught of affection from the stranger.

“What, I mean who- how did… it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I’m taking you home.”

Jughead’s heart fell to his feet. Of course Betty would never leave him all alone - she’d found him a guardian, someone to take over her role as his protector. It must have been the kiss. She’d gone home, realized what she’d done and been so disgusted that she’d pawned him off. At least this person seemed happy to see him.

“How did you get my new number?”

Jughead shrugged in earnest confusion.

“You didn’t text me to be here?”

Jughead shook his head. “Nnnooo.”

“Well then who did?”

“BBbbb-”

“Betty?” Jughead found himself locked into a much tighter grip.

“Kid, if you did something to Betty, if something bad happened between you, I can help. I can clean it up, I can make it go away, but I need to know everything. _Everything_ , okay? Do you know where she is?”

In utter confusion, Jughead tried to pull away as he shook his head.

“Listen, this is very important, when did you last see Betty?”

“Fff-” The panic was not helping Jughead’s ability to make words move from his brain to mouth.

“Friday? Fuck. Betty’s been missing for over a day. You might have been the last person to see her.”

Jughead sucked in a harsh breath.

“Yeah, this is a problem. She was supposed to go home for dinner that night but never showed. Her dad, the high and mighty Dr. Cooper, called the police a few hours later then he went missing too.”

Ice cascaded through Jughead’s veins, freezing the blood in its path. In the distance, between raindrops, the lights of the lab continued to flicker softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to knit subtle penis socks? From Wendy Moreland
> 
> https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/penispoopcakewaffle-sock


	8. Wrap and Turn

**Wrap and Turn:** A technique to create shorter rows that put a curve into your knitting.

**FRIDAY NIGHT**

How was it possible for a heart to feel so heavy and so light at the same time? Betty was soaring after the kiss with Jughead. She’d been feeling that pull toward him for such a long time, but it felt like taking advantage for her to make a move. She’d been so selfish in hoarding so much of his time already that it felt even worse to monopolize him romantically as well.

His mouth had been slightly clumsy against hers, but she’d never forget his sigh of contentment as she kissed him back. There was such stark relief in that sound, as if he’d been afraid she would push him away.

He was afraid because he’d been broken before - literally torn to bits and put hastily back together. Of course he was terrified that she would do the same to him. As he was putting his heart on his sleeve, she was using it to tug him back into the lion’s den. 

She couldn’t possibly get all of the others out on her own and yet there was a small part of her that hoped Jughead wouldn’t show up to the woods. He shouldn’t have to go through all of that again. What if they got caught? What would the doctor do to the poor souls left behind?

Betty shuddered to think of what might happen.

Impulsively she passed her house instead of turning into the driveway for dinner. Just one quick trip to the library for a little more research.

“We’re closing in 15 minutes,” the librarian called as Betty dinged through the door.

“Oh shoot! Sorry! Do you have city planning records here? Building permits or floor plans? I’m writing a story about the history of medicine in Riverdale and I was hoping to learn about the shut down hospital?”

From behind a stack of books emerged the old woman. She was barely five feet tall. Her puffs of white hair probably added three inches to the total. Two pairs of glasses hung from strings down around her neck.

“Sorry, Honey, those are all kept at City Hall which is already closed for the day. Myrtle closes early on Fridays to get to her bridge club.”

Betty cursed silently, “Really? I got the plans for the parking structure here.”

“Ah yes, well, the hospital was city property when it was built. By the time the garage was built, it had been sold and was privately owned. I’ll tell you what though, you can ask me whatever you like. I’m about as old as this entire darn town,” she chuckled at her own joke.

“Oh, um, can you tell me when the building was built and why it was abandoned?”

“Well let’s see, it opened just after the boys started coming home from WWII, ‘44 I think. This area needed a place for them to convalesce. There was a lot of shell shock and what not, you understand. But back then there was a lot more trade on the river. Boats would come through with all sorts of things, they used the waterways for logging. By the 80’s, the jobs dried up, there weren’t enough veterans or other mental patients to justify the number of doctors. The kids spread these rumors about deaths and ghosts, but it was all very normal. It just stopped making money so it closed its doors.”

Betty scribbled away in her notebook. “And what about since then? What is the medical community like in Riverdale, would you say? Many doctors, nurses… surgeons?”

“Well this is such a small town. We don’t have much in that way out here. In fact, before your father came there wasn’t a surgeon within thirty miles of here.”

That made Betty’s pencil pause. “Oh no?”

“Nah, last one died maybe six years back. It was really such a blessing that your father was in town for his interview the night of that horrible crash.”

Air caught in Betty’s throat. Instead of coughing it out, she forced her lungs back into a regular rhythm. “I didn’t know he was here for that.”

“Oh my, yes! So many deaths, but it would have been so many more. They had him run a shift. He personally saved at least three children that night. Honestly, just between you and me, I think that’s why they hired him despite what little work there is at the clinic.”

Betty blinked and forced more steady breaths in and out. “Oh, would you look at the time! I’m keeping you late and I really should get to dinner.”

“Not at all! It’s so nice to have someone to talk to. I’m Gladys, by the way, and if you want to talk again just stop by and ask for Glad!”

“Will do, thanks again!” Betty walked out in a dizzy haze. 

There really was only one suspect. The only surgeon in town who was seemingly forever busy despite no one needing surgery. Who owned the property next door. Who had the money to buy out the hospital from the bank. Who happened to be in town in the window of opportunity.

The man who was pulling up in his car right outside the library.

“There you are, kiddo! When you weren’t home on time your Mom got worried and sent me out looking for you.”

He looked so normal. He was wearing a maroon sweater she’d seen on him a thousand times and a cheerful smile. As casually as she could she sent off a text.

She swallowed hard. “Yeah, I was just here. At the library. Doing research. I drove my car. I’ll just follow you home.”

“Nonsense.” He reached across the divide to open the passenger door for her. “You should ride home with me.”

“But my car-” she stammered.

“-Will still be here tomorrow. I’ll drop you off here to drive it home in the morning. Come on, your old man wants to have a chat.”

The sun was just setting. A cold breeze swirled a few leaves across the ground ominously. She couldn’t think of a single reason why she’d say no. This wasn’t some drifter offering a suspicious ride. It was her dad, the man who had raised her. The man who’d taught her how to read. So why did he suddenly feel like a stranger?

If she ran, he would without a doubt know that she suspected something. There was no way to outrun the car. Yes, having her leave her car behind was unusual, but she had no reason to believe he knew anything.

She got in. As the door shut behind her, she could feel in her gut that she’d made a mistake. The child safety lock clicked into place too swiftly for her to get out. She buckled her seat belt softly as they slowly advanced out of the parking lot.

“This isn’t the way home, you should have turned right.”

“Alice has been so stressed lately, I thought we’d go get some frozen yogurt for dessert. Just you and me. We haven’t gotten a chance to talk lately, you’re always out of the house.”

She scanned the floor and seats for a weapon, just something to hold onto, a heavy weight for reassurance. “So are you. This new job has really had you putting in long hours.”

“Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of time at the hospital.”

A long stretch of silence moved between them.

“How did you know I was at the library?” It was a stupid question to ask, pure curiosity slipping out of her mouth.

“I had a GPS tracker set-up on your phone when we bought it. All I had to do was open the app and ping! There you were. You see, Alice thinks I’m a bad father. She thinks I don’t know what my girls are up to, but I always know. I know that Polly likes to go hang around the football boys. She never was like us. She likes simple things. Not curious. But you, oh you’re just like me. You just can’t resist.”

He only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look her dead in the eyes. It was long enough.

“Dad, where are we going? I want to go home. I’m hungry. Please can’t we just turn around and go to the house?” she pleaded as the car gained speed.

“We just have a few errands to run, Sweetie. I just have to pick up a few parts for what I’m building.”

“Parts? Like screws and bolts?”

A smirk crawled across his lips. “Not exactly.”

They were on a back road. It was almost completely deserted except for one figure walking down the sidewalk about a half mile away. The road was lit only with sparse streets lights and the harsh glow of the headlights. Hal pressed on the accelerator, his eyes never left that lone figure.

“NO! No, please! Dad, please don’t do this!” Betty couldn’t help but push her foot hard against the floor as if she could depress the brakes herself. She clawed back at her seat.

Hal sighed. “I know you’ve seen them, Betty; I know you understand. This is just the supply. Think of all the good we can do once we’ve perfected the technique.”

The person looked up as the engine behind him roared. The boy, no older than fifteen, spotted their car. Hal let the vehicle drift closer to the curb as he revved. The boy began to run.

Loud, ugly sobs ripped out of Betty at the frightened face of the boy.

“NO!”

Betty gripped the wheel and threw all of her weight to the driver’s side. The car went into a hard left turn that spun it up onto two wheels. Her father braced against her with one arm and pushed her back towards her door hard as he yanked the wheel. Her head slammed into the window once, and then again as he righted the car out of its spin. He screeched everything to a halt, leaving a belt burn across Betty’s chest. Through Betty’s blurred, dizzy vision, she was pleased to find that the shadow of the boy was nowhere to be seen.

A pinprick stung on her neck. She looked back to see a needle retreating.

The last thing she heard before the world went black was, “I am very disappointed in you, Betty.” 

+++++++++++

When Betty came to it was still dark outside. There was no way of knowing how long she’d been out. Everything was still fuzzy, so she drifted back to sleep despite her roiling stomach. She woke up only briefly several more times before she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Eventually, she was able to gather enough strength to notice a figure moving about.

The girl set a water bottle a few feet from Betty and recoiled quickly when she began to move. As she sat up Betty scanned the room. The fixtures and wallpaper were the same familiar patterns of the room the Serpents were kept in. They were in the hospital, but not the first floor. She reached for a bottle only to find that her wrists in shackles attached to a chain leading to her ankles. There was just enough slack for her to get to the drinks.

“Are you Pet?” Betty croaked out. Her unused voice cracked in her dry throat. Sluggishly, she cracked the seal on the water bottle.

“Yes,” the girl answered warily. “Are you going to be my replacement then?”

Betty had no good answer to that. “How long have you been here?”

Pet went about the business of tidying the room. “Long enough to know that you are here to replace me or test me. Either way, you’re bad news.”

“What if I told you I could get us both out of here?”

“And go where?” Pet snapped back. “To what? I might not have anything to go back to, even if I could leave.”

“You _can_ leave, and once you’re out I will help you. I’ve been helping Jughead, haven’t I?”

That gave the girl pause. “You’re the one who’s been taking care of Jug?”

“Yes, and I have a plan.” Betty reached into her hair, even groggy she could pick the lock with ease. “See? I can get us out of here, get everyone out of here, but I’m going to need your help. What’s your name?”

“Pet.”

“No, I mean from before. Before you were here, what did your Mom and Dad call you?”

“I was-” the girl shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I don’t know what he’s done to you to make you think you can’t escape or that no one will want you back, but I swear I can help.”

Betty reached for the girl’s leg shackle. As she inserted her hairpin into the lock, a jolt of something that was not quite electricity flooded through Betty, throwing her thoughts into a jumbled mess of confusion. She had to blink her mind back into order.

“Yeah, right," the girl said sarcastically. "You can help. My name is Pet, and as far as you’re concerned it was always Pet and will always be Pet. If I come back here and those chains are still off your ankle, I’m telling The Doctor.”

Pet slammed the door on her way out of the room.

Betty sighed in frustration. She would need the girl to trust her before they could work together. It was going to take some time. Betty just prayed she’d have enough.


	9. Drop Stitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready to find out who Pet is?

**Drop Stitch:** When a stitch is deliberately allowed to fall off the needle, creating a divide in the work.

Storm clouds continued to roll in over the town of Riverdale. What started as a light drizzle quickly turned into a raging downpour by the time Jughead and FP made it through the broken window into the hospital. Their shoes squeaked as they exited the growing puddle on the linoleum floor. Thunder rolled.

“The hell are we doing here? You think this is where Betty is?” 

Jughead hurried him down the hall to where the other Serpents were. Their only illumination was the flashes of lightning from outside. It was too risky to turn on the lights. He had no idea if Betty was here or not. A sting of betrayal tainted thoughts of her flowed through his mind. Dr. Cooper, The Doctor, was her father. They could have been working together the whole time. For all Jughead knew, The Doctor had told her where to find him in the first place. The idea sat like lead in his stomach. 

“You actually came for us,” Toni whispered as Jughead turned the corner. F.P. hid a cough and gag in his sleeve as he surveyed the room with wide eyes.

She caught F.P.’s gaze. “You look so familiar, like I’ve seen your face in a dream, not to sound too Sleeping Beauty about it.”

“Antoinette?” 

“Nnoooooo t-t-t-i-i-” Jughead slapped his palm to his temple.

“No time, we get it. How are we doing this?” Sweet Pea bounced nervously from foot to foot. “Did you bring the fucking key? What about Pet? She’s in the lab right now. Said something about The Doctor picking up a new assistant and a new body.”

“You’re d-dead,” F.P. stammered out. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock!” Sweet Pea growled. “We’ve been through all of this before. We’re dead. You’re freaked. Blah blah blah. There will be more like us any minute if you don’t get upstairs and stop The Doctor.”

Fangs threw himself against his chains, gaining an extra inch of space to grab ahold of F.P.’s ankle.

Fangs hissed, “I remember. Everything.”

Jughead picked up a piece of chalk to write: **Good. I have a job for you.**

+++++++++++++++++++

This time Betty awoke confined with restraints fitted with brass locks. The bed was tilted up enough at the top for her to see Pet and her father talking in hushed tones over the prone form of what used to be a young man. Or, parts of many young people.

They were standing in the middle of a red circle filled with a pentagram and other symbols. Only candle light filled the room. The high vaulted ceilings boasted large glass panels with rivers of heavy rain sliding down.

“Oh good! You’re awake, Pumpkin. Sorry about that last dose. I needed to get you up here somehow. I think we may have had a misunderstanding earlier. We need to get that cleared up before we can move forward.”

“Dad, what are you doing?” she asked through slurred words.

“You’re her father?” Pet gasped.

Hal backhanded her across the mouth then calmly said, “That’s none of your business. You have a ritual to prepare for.”

With his attention elsewhere, Betty tested the outer limits of how far she could reach and what was nearby. She knew these types of locks. They were cheap. There were little pin holes next to the key entrance. All she had to do was push something in that hole and it would pop open.

“Eh eh. I’ve known you your whole life, Betty. I knew you’d pick the lock on the shackles. That’s why I had to drug the water and steal your hairpins. See, I realized that from your point of view, this all might seem kind of evil, but once you see how the process works, once I explain _why_ I’m doing this, I _know_ you’ll get it. Because you’re just like me Betty, you have my darkness. I’ve always seen it in you.”

Betty doubted that very much. Instead of attempting to answer, she tried to catch Pet’s eye. She’d been able to have a few conversations with the girl before Betty made the costly mistake of drinking from a bottle without checking the seal.

“This isn’t about just killing random kids for fun. I developed an anti-rejection drug for transplant patients. I couldn’t meet board approval for human trials without adequate animal trials first, but the mice just KEPT DYING! But it wasn’t the drug! The drug worked! The mice just didn’t have the correct system, so I thought, what if I could test it out on people no one would miss?”

“Oh, please tell me you didn’t,” Betty moaned.

“They were transients, Betty! Mentally ill homeless who were never going to recover. Prostitutes who were killing themselves with drugs and AIDS anyway. I took mercy on them and their cursed lives. But then, oh then I found a better way. Just watch, Betty, this is really something.”

It was no use, the restraints were too tight, all of her resources just out of reach. The rolling stainless steel table full of tools was too far away for her to grab. She again cast furtive glances at Pet for any sign of recognition - even the smallest hint she might be on Betty’s side. But she was busy helping Hal move the body from a rolling cot onto a metal autopsy table, wilfully oblivious to Bety’s attempts.

“Spell ingredients?” Hal asked Pet.

“Check.”

“Defibrillation paddles?”

“Check.”

“Restraints?”

“Check.”

“Let me make sure this is working.” Hal pressed a button on a remote and Pet fell to the floor with anguished screams. He smirked as she caught her breath. 

“Check,” he said down at her. “Now go bring Betty over here.”

On hands and knees she crawled over to Betty’s bed. Using the railing for balance, she pulled herself up and began rolling Betty toward the corpse. The stench was overwhelming up close. She turned her head as far away from the source as she could.

“Oh come on, he hasn’t been dead that long,” Hal said with a roll of his eyes.

“Dad, Daddy, please, why are you doing this?”

“Look at him. LOOK!” Hal grabbed her chin to wrench her head toward the body. “He’s dead. This is a cadaver. A carcass of what used to be seven different people and I’m going to bring him back to life. No rejection of foreign tissue, no lingering bullshit like the earlier models. I guess I should thank you for keeping that lug around. I thought he was a reject, but now I know, he was just one step closer.”

“But you’re the one who killed them,” Betty’s voice broke on tears.

“Not all of them! That truck driver knew he was an addict! He didn’t have to take the pills that made him pass out at the wheel. That was _his_ choice. Just because I gave them to him doesn’t put me at fault. He killed those kids, not me!”

“You’re a monster,” Betty hissed at him.

“Oh no, Betty. I’ll show you a monster.” 

Pet mouthed a ‘sorry’ to Betty as Hal reached over to the chain at her ankle. He whispered words in a foreign tongue into it and it clattered to the ground. The floor began to rise as a platform. The three of them and the corpse advanced upward as the ceiling opened, pouring down rain upon them.

Pet began a chant. At first nothing happened. She began to shake with the effort of concentration. Betty’s hair stood on edge as the lightning strike scent of magic filled the room. Hal watched impassively with his hand resting on the button of the remote. It was still clutched tight in his hand as he set the defibrillation pads down over the body’s chest.

Betty watched in horror as the body began to twitch. Lightning struck rods to be carried down through conduits into the table. Pet’s chanting reached a fevered pitch as raw power channeled out of her down into the corpse. A waning breath left its chest. Hal moved the paddles back to the table with a wide, menacing grin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” F.P.’s shout shattered the eerie vibe that lingered in the room.

“I could ask the same of you, Jones,” Hal snarled back.

Betty felt a tug at her side. She couldn’t lean over far enough to see what was happening over the side of the bed, but she saw a long, thin piece of metal work its way into the restraint at her wrist.

It was a knitting needle.

Betty nearly sobbed in relief. As soon as her fingers were free, she spent just a fraction of a moment holding Jughead’s hand from below before working quickly on the strap across her waist.

“I’m here as one of a search party, looking for your daughter. Care to explain what she’s doing tied up next to you? Or how about the girl with the shock collar?”

Hal took the opportunity to flood Pet with electricity. She sprawled across the corpse as she was wracked with spasms.

“Get one step closer, and I will kill her, and Betty, before I kill you.”

“Big man up there. You really think you can take me, Dr. Cooper? I beat the ever loving shit out of you in high school over Alice. I’ll happily do it again for this.”

As the men bickered, Betty was breaking free, working on the restraints at her head and wrist while Jughead worked on the ones holding her ankles. Pet was still slouched against the prone body. Finally, she and Betty caught eyes. She offered a single nod.

Hal’s head turned as Betty leapt for the equipment table. She grabbed the resuscitation paddles, swaying on wobbly legs.

“And what do you think you are going to do with those? You can’t even reach me from there.”

“Funny thing about these collars, you can open the locks from the outside with electricity.”

Betty pressed the paddles to Pet’s neck and released the shock. The collar swung open and off.

It fell uselessly to the ground.

Hal slowly took a step back. “Now, Pet-”

The girl stared at her hands as if she hadn’t seen them in months. “My name isn’t Pet. It’s Sabrina.”

Her fingertips crackled with energy. With a flick of her wrist, an invisible force sent Hal crashing to the floor. Sabrina floated down from the pedestal as an avenging angel in scrubs. The figure on the table became still once more.

“Holy Shit!” F.P. yelped. “You imprisoned a witch?!”

Betty slipped down the back side of the pedestal into Jughead’s open arms. He squeezed her briefly before they began rushing toward the elevator. F.P. met them halfway to help Jughead support Betty who was still unsteady from the drugs.

“Where’s my mother!?” Sabrina demanded of Hal even as she forced his body off his feet into the air. “And don’t you tell me she sold me to you.”

“How else do you think I got the shackles that muted your abilities? Who else had the strength to make them? Who has that kind of magic outside your family?” Hal choked out.

Sabrina screamed and tossed him to the floor again. From across the room, Betty could hear the snap as his arm broke. He wailed.

“Face it,” Hal coughed, “no one wanted you so I took you in.”

“My parents love me! My aunts love me! I’ll have somewhere to go,” Sabrina seethed, “but not you. You’re never getting out of here.”

“You wouldn’t kill me! You don’t have the stomach for it!” Hal shouted back.

“No,” Betty said calmly. “But he does.”

She pulled the gates of the elevator up to reveal a snarling Fangs. He ran full tilt at Hal’s slumped form. Betty had to turn her face into Jughead’s shoulder as the screams began. When the falsetto screeches turned into the wet squelching and crunch of chewing, Betty couldn’t take it anymore.

“I have to get out of here,” she mumbled as she bolted for the first door she could see. It lead to a stairwell that was completely blocked from use. Half the stairs had been removed leaving a gaping hole. Heavy breaths helped her keep from being sick over the three steps left open. The sound of the door opening behind her made her scream before she realized it was just Jughead.

He held his hands up in surrender and just let her spend a few minutes pacing and groaning. He had no idea how to help her. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered as she reflexively smoothed her hair back from her face. “He’s my dad, Jug! That serial killer, that fucking psycho is my DAD! Or was my dad. Oh my god, Fangs is killing him! He’s dying I have to-”

He gathered her into his arms and just shook his head. It was too late. Trying to stop Fangs now wasn’t going to make a difference. 

“No, you’re right. You’re right.” She calmed in his arms until her forehead was pressed to his collarbone just gently swaying. 

“My whole life is about to change. What am I supposed to do? I had a plan. A good one. There’s an abandoned kid’s day camp not far from here. It’s got individual cabins with fireplaces. The toilets are comunal but not far away. I could have gotten everyone out and waited for The Doctor to come back and have him arrested for kidnapping. It would have been s-” she looked up at his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what it would have been. What matters now is what will be.”

He watched in astonishment as she pulled herself back together. She dried her eyes. The ponytail was pulled firmly back into place. Her face lost emotion as she steeled herself for the tasks ahead. 

Surprisingly she stepped forward to capture a kiss. “We can do this as long as we stick together. Thank you, for going to the woods, for bringing F.P. here with you. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be dead. And thank you for getting me out of the cuffs. Even though I would have figured out a way to get myself out any minute.”

“Teeeaam.”

“Exactly. We’re a team.” This time he pulled her in for a gentle kiss.

A small scream escaped from Betty again as F.P. swung the door open. “Sorry to break this up, kids, but we need a plan. _Now_. It won’t be long until the search party gets here.”

“Alright, what are we working with? What do the police already know?”

“Your car was found at the library, librarian confirmed you went in and that your car was still there when she left. A few hours after that, your Dad called in that you never came home for dinner. Your phone was found smashed on a road next to some tire tracks. The whole town went out looking and asshole Hal never returned from the search.”

Betty nodded along, the wheels in her head already turning. “We can work with that. Can you, uh, can you get together what’s left of him?”

“I can help with that,” Sabrina said from the doorway.

“Oh, Sabrina!” Betty pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay?”

“I am now. It’s been so long since I could get a full hold of my magic. And you’re one to talk, half your face is a bruise.”

“It is? Actually, that’s good news. It’ll work for the story we’re going to sell. Gather up what you can and take it into the woods. We’ll be right behind you. F.P., we’ll need to be able to keep in contact.”

He tossed a phone her way. “Keep a spare on me. My number’s already in it.”

As Sabrina and F.P. hurried away, Jughead pulled the phone to start typing.

**What about us? The Serpents? What will we do now?**

“If the five of you want to stay here, I will do everything in my power to keep you here. I think Hal may have bought the property outright. I’ll have my Mom transfer it to me. I can stay here and take care of it. Of you guys. F.P. will help.”

**Don’t put your life on hold for us.**

“Are you serious right now? Jug, I just learned that magic is real, my father is a serial killer, and dead people are walking the Earth. College can’t compare to this. I’m a journalist in search of stories. This is it. This is my story. I can’t just leave, not now, not ever. Not _you._ ”

Selfishly he hoped it was all true.

“But first, we need to get ahead of this story. Here’s what I’m thinking: we find Hal’s car, drive it to the edge of the woods, and leave what’s left of him nearby. We’ll say he found me concussed after a mugging but we both got lost in the woods on the way home. Some sort of wild animal attacked us-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time of posting The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina isn't avaiable yet, so here's to hoping she isn't too OOC.


	10. Bind Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I know many of you were hoping Sabrina would be able to fix the Serpents, but they are sadly stuck. Today's knitting pattern is the Pearl Cluture by Kayla Dyches.
> 
> https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/pearl-clutcher

**Bind Off:** Finishing your piece.

“... his screams could be heard for miles. The next morning when they found his body, all that was left were the gnawed down bones and a few pieces of flesh. His daughter was found the next day wandering down a dirt road. They took her home and she was so upset about what happened to her father that she vowed to forever protect the property so no more lives would be lost.”

“Nuh uh, Tommy! That is such bullshit! My mom told me that Dr. Cooper died of a heart attack and they found Betty at her boyfriend’s house,” the girl argued back.

The other children shushed her. They were hiding behind a bush not far from the entrance to the hospital. It was a particularly cold October night. It wasn’t quite Halloween yet, but the decorations were out, the pumpkins were carved, and the dare seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Well your mom is wrong, Virginia!”

“I told you to call me Gin!”

“You’re both wrong!” Bobby yell whispered at them. “Everyone knows that Betty was found by F.P. in the woods. Betty and her dad had their car hijacked and the guy left them in the woods. They found Betty but not Dr. Cooper. It was in the paper you assholes!”

“How would you know?!” Tommy whispered back. “It happened five years ago. You were what, four years old? If you don’t think Cooper’s ghost is in there right now, then why don’t you go in yourself?”

“It’s locked idiot! And if you’re so tough, how about you go in?”

“I’ll go in!” Gin stood up. The boys immediately pulled her back down to a crouch.

“Not so loud!” Tommy warned her. “I told you, Betty watches the property.”

She wiggled out of the boy’s grasp. “If she was here, the lights would be on. I said I’m going in, and if you boys aren’t chicken, you’ll come in too.”

As she stomped up to the estate, her bravery waned. The building seemed smaller from farther away. The cracks in the concrete where the vines were digging in seemed creepier up close. The window she was planning on sneaking in through had looked closer to the ground.

None of that mattered. What mattered was Gin was no chicken. She was going to show those boys that there was nothing to be afraid of. She put her hands on the sill and jumped. For a few seconds, she balanced on locked arms before she fell back down.

“Tommy! Come give me a boost? I can’t make it.”

He said, “This is so stupid you guys,” but came over and gave her a hand up anyway.

If she thought the outside was creepy, it had nothing on the inside. As she stepped in, a few bugs scattered to the outer edges of the room. Broken furniture was strewn about between crumbled leaves on the floor. The door creaked with a breeze. Gin froze to the spot.

She startled back to life when, “What do you see?” floated in through the window.

“Why don’t you come up and see for yourself?” she taunted back with false bravado.

The boys hoisted themselves through the window.

“Guys, I really don’t think we should be here,” Bobby said nervously.

“Of course you don’t, you’re a wimp, Bob.” Tommy said with a shrug, “It’s okay.”

“Shut up, Asswipe.”

“Make me, Shit-For-Brains!”

A shadow crossed in front of the door. “Shhhh! Did you see that?”

The boys stopped at the fear in her voice. “I saw something move.”

Tommy whispered, “No you didn’t. You’re just trying to freak us out.”

It moved again. They all scooted closer. “No, Bobby’s right we shouldn’t be here.”

Gin swallowed. “Scaredy cats.”

She brazenly walked out the door into the hallway, leaving behind the boys hushed cries of warning. It was so dark. She fumbled along the wall for a light switch. They blinked quickly into full light. The beams chased away the shadows and her apprehension along with them. She smiled coyly at the boys before moving farther down the corridor. They all followed quickly behind her.

Just as they reached the last door, the lights flickered out entirely. Moon lit in the window was a looming figure. Tommy screamed. Bobby and Gin clutched at each other, frozen. The light came back on. No one was standing there.

“What. The. Fuck,” Tommy panted.

The lights went out again. The figure was ten feet closer. As one, all three children turned to run. A slumped body in a wheelchair blocked their exit. In horror, they looked back to see the figure steadily moving closer.

“What do we do?” Bobby whispered.

The light came back on. The hallway was empty except for them. 

“Holy shit. It’s actually haunted. We have to get out of here!” Gin began a sprint back to the room they’d entered through. 

This time when the lights flickered, she didn’t freeze, but kept going as fast as she thought she could in the dark.

“Boo.” The man grabbed her arm, halting her progress with ease. She clawed at his arm and came away with a hunk of rotting flesh. She screeched and fought with all her might.

She turned to the boys to ask for help but they were caught in their own trap. The girl in the wheelchair cackled at them as another figure in chains tightened its grip on their ankles. Gin began to bawl. Of all the ways she’d thought she’d die, she never pictured ghosts killing her at just ten years old.

“What in the world are you three doing in here?” 

Gin fell on her butt. Suddenly the world was lit again. This time the lights didn’t flicker at all. They gave off a full, steady stream of bright yellow rays.

Gin looked around. No one was holding her arm. The boys were laying on the floor with nothing keeping them there. Standing in front of them with a stern and confused look was a pretty twenty-something year old woman.

“Wha-” Tommy started.

“You are trespassing,” she said sternly with a bob of her ponytail. “Leave right now and I promise not to tell your parents, okay? And be careful. You never know what kind of weirdos might be out at this time of night.”

Not having to be told twice, they all stood up and fled.

“It’s a little mean, don’t you think?” Sabrina asked from her perch in a doorway once the kids were out of sight.

Betty smiled. “A little, but I’d rather have them spread stories of ghosts every October than about how much fun they had or how everybody should go hang out in the vacant building. Thanks for providing the special effects.”

“For you B, anything.”

“When are you leaving?” Betty asked as the others came out of their hiding spots. Jughead rolled Toni down the hall while Sweet Pea worked on removing Fangs’ chains.

“Right about now, actually. I want to get back home before the Samhain rituals start. I just wanted to thank you again, for everything. Especially with helping me find what was left of my Mom. It was nice to be able to put her to rest.”

“Did you ever get a definitive answer about the spell on your chains?”

Sabrina shook her head sadly. “The spell on the collar was certainly cast by my mother, but it was supposed to only dampen my powers. My aunts confirmed that the shackles completely cut me off from magic, but they can’t tell who made them. Speaking of, the aunts wanted to extend their gratitude and an invitation to come visit any time.”

“Tell them thanks for the offer, but there’s a lot to take care of around here. Any sign of your dad yet?” 

“Nothing concrete about my father. Whispers, rumors, enough to make me think he really is alive, but no clues as to where.”

Jughead provided a solid base behind Betty for her to lean back against. She reached back to curl her fingers up into his hair as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh, Jughead, thanks for the traveling cardigan.” It was his latest NSFW creation. A deep maroon piece with patterns of ejaculating penises. Sabrina was already wearing it.

“Don’t get me wrong, Jug, it’s beautifully knit, but Sabrina, why on Earth would you want to wear it?” 

“It felt like a subtle way of telling everyone to just go fuck off.” She admired the arms of it, “Plus, from afar it kind of looks like butterflies.”

Betty giggled. “Well, if you need any more help with the search, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“And bother the famous author of the Cooper’s House Of Horror books?” Sabrina feigned dismay. “I would never!”

“Well if you don’t want to ask her, I’ve been working on my Google Fu,” Toni cracked from her seat. “I’m really good with the new eye tracking software F.P. brought me.”

“I’m better with my hands,” Fangs sneered. 

“You break all the computers we give you!” Toni shot back with a huff. The two continued bickering as Sweet Pea laughed.

Betty left Jughead’s arms to wrap Sabrina in a hug. The group chorused their goodbyes as she walked out to her car. The rest of the Serpents headed up stairs. It was movie night in the hospital. F.P. would stop by with Nosferatu and far too much popcorn. Fangs would probably spend most of the night on the internet trolling transphobic people. Toni would add running commentary as Sweet Pea commented on the ‘hot or not’ of all the actresses. It wasn’t fancy, but it was how they were as a family.

“Do you ever rrrrregret it?” Jughead asked as they watched Sabrina leave.

“Regret what?” Betty waved at the departing car.

“Not leaving? Going off to college? Living with normal people?”

Betty couldn’t help but laugh at him. She turned around to take his face between her palms, “I’ve had enough adventures. I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world.” She gave him a long, sweet kiss. “Besides, how else would I write my horror stories? Mama needs to get paid!”

They laughed together and held hands as they walked back inside. Jughead’s limp had softened over the years, but it still put a hitch in his step.

“You know, if you ever did want to leave, I would go with you.”

“I know. But that’s a worry for a different night. Tonight is for family.”

They shared smiles and continued hand in hand toward their happy group of misfits.


End file.
